


Night

by hetalia_textbook



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetalia_textbook/pseuds/hetalia_textbook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Insomnia had always been something Ivan dealt with alone. He didn't see any reason for Alfred to be so concerned. Perhaps the American could help him anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night

Insomnia plagued Ivan’s sleep deprived mind more often than not. To a nation, a rather strong one at that, the lack of sleep wouldn’t kill, but after centuries of losing sleep to the dark recesses of his own mind and memories he shoved away in an attempt to forget, Ivan had fallen victim to the chill and frostbite embedded deep into his bones. He’d lay awake for hours, heart pounded from nightmares that resembled his past much too closely for his liking, his hair in tangles, and his eyes still dry from tears he could never shed. He lost his sense of safety in his own bed, although he had truly lost that feeling long ago. He felt so very cold in the dead of night, willing the sun to rise over the horizon and perhaps melt the cold feeling away, although, it never had before. Some nights seemed longer than others and it was those nights when Ivan wondered if the sun would ever rise again.

In the dead of night, Ivan woke with a jolt. His violent trembles were barely enough to wake the other occupant sharing his bed. For a moment, Ivan believed he was the young child in his dreams, his memories from the days when foreign men invaded his land and foreign hands roamed his scared skin. He blinked and slowly began to realize where he truly was. “Fredka?”

His eyes had just adjusted to the dark as he rolled over to face beloved. His eyes traveled over Alfred’s face in the moonlight. Without his glasses blocking his eyes, Ivan realized just how young Alfred really was. Ivan gnawed on his bottom lip, unsure if he should wake the younger nation or let him sleep. He mimicked the even pace of Alfred’s breath with his own and slowly, but surely, calmed his racing heart.

Ivan doubted his ability to fall back into a peaceful slumber. He continued to watch Alfred with half lidded eyes. Sharing a bed was as intimate as they had gotten as a couple and Ivan didn’t fight it. He understood Alfred’s wish to take this slow. They had been set back so far in their relationship after the Cold War. Ivan had questioned why he had ever allowed himself to see the sun in Alfred’s smile and the bluest skies in his eyes. Everyone had already hated him, despised him, and feared him. He had never felt so loved. He had always known Alfred would leave like the rest. Some nights, he’d watch the other sleep, feeling the ghost of his breath against his skin, attempting to assure himself that Alfred was really there and he had hadn’t left long ago, leaving him with just his imagination. He’d fight the urge to touch his skin and would always lose. Once he could feel him there, he could finally put his mind to rest. Yes, Alfred was really there.

Delicately, Ivan’s fingers trailed over Alfred’s exposed hand and wrist. Ivan’s eyes gazed along Alfred’s jaw and his relaxed expression. Nothing could touch Alfred in his dreams. Ivan envied him.

Ivan’s calloused and scared fingers touched Alfred’s unblemished cheek and jaw line. He was truly beautiful, Ivan thought. Ivan could hardly believe someone like Alfred could dare love someone so cold, monstrous, and ugly as him. It was then that Alfred’s eyes fluttered open and slowly met with Ivan’s. Ivan stilled and barely breathed. “I did not mean to wake you,”

“Mhm, it’s cool,” Alfred muttered and sucked in a deep breath through his nose and turning to stretch his tensing shoulders. As he began to wake, Alfred looked up and realized the tense discomfort on Ivan’s face. “What’s the matter? Why are you awake?” He resisted the urge to add ‘again’ to his question, but Alfred knew better then to upset the other. He would never get an answer out of him that way.

“N-No… I am fine,”

Alfred gave Ivan a tired smile and enclosed the hand that had previously stroked his cheek within his own . “You didn’t answer my question, big guy,”

A long moment of silence later, Ivan whispered one word into the darkness, “…Nightmare,”

“It’s okay,” Alfred said, inching closer to the larger man. Alfred let go of Ivan’s hand and slowly reached over to touch the scarf around Ivan’s neck.

“нет,” Ivan said hesitantly as Alfred’s fingers reached under the scarf and pulled the fabric away.

“It’s alright,” Alfred said when he felt Ivan tense under his fingers. He softly stroked the scars under the white bandages. He had seen them before, discolored, bubbly, criss-crossing across the older man’s neck from years of abuse and torture that Alfred couldn’t even begin to understand. He knew one thing for sure, Ivan hated his scars and he only let Alfred touch them. “You’re alright,” he whispered again and kissed Ivan’s scared jaw line, “I love you, you know that?”

“Even…” Ivan’s voice trembled, “Even with these scars?” Oh, how disgusting he must look. The scars were everywhere. He desperately clung to Alfred’s words however, taking them as truth. How could he not? He had longed for those words for centuries.

“Of course,” Alfred smiled and continued to stroke the scars with his thumb in a rhythmic pattern to sooth whatever ache was plaguing them, keeping Ivan awake and terrifying him in his dreams. “I love every bit of you,” Alfred quietly wiped a tear from Ivan’s cheek. Alfred frowned, “I’m sorry. Should I not have touched the scars? I thought they were hurting you again,”

“нет, no, you…” Ivan blinked away the remaining tears and brought Alfred’s hand back to his neck. “You can touch them… It… It is soothing,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and let Alfred trail his thumb over each scar as the ache slowly left him. Alfred’s smile was like the sun, but his touch was warm light sunbeams. Maybe the sun would rise again, but if it didn’t, Alfred would be there to melt the pain away and that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanon is that Ivan suffers from severe insomnia and nightmares because of the abuse and torture he received by the Mongols during his childhood and his own bosses during the Cold War. This one-shot is also on tumblr.


End file.
